Modern Day Love Songs
by never-ending rhythm
Summary: AU. Lily and James begin to love and lose in the Seventh Year at Hogwarts through the help of Frank, the Marauders, hair dye, Muggle fiction, and music. LE/JP, AL/FL. Collab starting chapter twelve.
1. Beginnings are the Worst Part

Written by never-ending nights with you. Chapter twelve will be when Amy and I will start switching on and off.

—

She sighed as she shut off her ever-ringing alarm. _First day of term_, she thought gravely. _And I have to be on _time_ for the Hogwarts Express this year._

She rolled out of bed, stubbing her toe on her overflowing trunk parked at the edge of her bed. Some of her books fell out, and Lily made to pick them up but stumbled yet again.

"Crap," she said, bouncing on her right foot as she attempted to hold her left. She sat on the edge of her bed and massaged the toe.

When she heard the clanging of dishes downstairs, she jumped off the bed and rushed out of the room. She yelled—mainly for her older sister's displeasure:

"MUM! CAN YOU MAKE SURE MY SKIRTS ARE DRY?"

She waited patiently for a half of a second before she heard Petunia grumbling from the adjacent room.

"Can't ever get a normal wake-up in this house," Petunia complained, opening up her door from across the hall. "Just because it's first day for you freaky teenagers, doesn't mean it is for me. I go to college _next_ week!"

"_Sorry_," Lily said, mock-snootily to her sister. "Unless you want to check on my clothes while I shower?"

"Oh, I'll check on your clothes, alright," she said lowly, ducking into the first bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Rolling her eyes, Lily turned to see her mum rushing up the stairs, a flurry of blonde hair and kitchen flour.

"Hi, sweet," her single mother said fondly. "Well, get that head of yours in the bath. I'll get your skirts."

Lily obliged and opened the door to her room from the bathroom not twenty minutes later. Her skirts were pressed neatly and folded on the dresser. She pulled her favorite black skirt on, and, luckily, her bracelet fell out from in between two.

"Score!" she exclaimed happily, pulling it on. The Live strong bracelet was slightly worn, but she could care less. "Thought I left you on the gap last Monday."

She hummed to herself as she readied herself quickly, pulling her Killers tour shirt on as she attempted to fit all of her possessions in her trunk. Her Narnia books fell out yet again, and her school books toppled uneasily. Lily sighed and began to reposition all of her items over again (making it the third time in two days).

When she remembered her skirts, she pilled them into the trunk. She closed the lid, but it wouldn't clasp.

"Shit!" She counted to ten seconds, like her mum always reminded her to when she was mad at _him_. "Petunia!"

Her sister stormed in characteristically a minute later, annoyed.

"What?" she snapped, her hair in a towel, accentuating her neck more so then usual. "I have places to be that don't include _you_."

"Like hanging with your fat boyfriend, Dursley, who can barely move about the house?" Lily sneered.

"Shut it!" She looked over to see Lily standing on her overlarge trunk. "What are you doing? Trying to make your five foot one self taller?"

"I'm fine with my height," Lily reassured her, exasperated. "At least five inches of _my_ height isn't all neck."

Petunia scoffed, and clasped the trunk for her. Lily thanked her quickly, jumping off the trunk, and grabbing her notebook.

"You may go," she said distractively, checking off items on the list she had made at midnight the night before.

"Glad to have your permission, Princess." Petunia left the room just as Lily realized how late she was.

"How in the name of Merlin's little black book am I almost late _again_?"

—

They arrived at Platform 9¾ only slightly disheveled, Lily's head dizzy from her quick apparition that was sure to leave her mother seasick. They had enough time for a proper good-bye, for once, much to busy Lily's dismay.

"Now, sweetie, have a good year," her mother began, fixing Lily's curly hair. Lily slapped her hand away. She continued on. "Head Girl is a very big responsibility."

"I _know_, Mum," she groaned, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

"And be nice to that James Potter this year!"

"Mum! You're supposed to be on _my_ side!"

"He's only trying to woo the prettiest girl at Hogwarts. Give him _some_ credit, at least."

The engine sounded then, and Lily gave her babbling mother a fleeting kiss on the cheek before beginning to try and hoist her trunk onto the train.

"Need some help?" a deep voice said from behind her. She turned. "The Head Boy's at your service!"

James Potter winked at her, before pulling her trunk up easily.

"Potter?" she asked, surprised out of her mind. "_You're _Head Boy? Not Frank? Or Remus? Or Caradoc?"

Potter laughed loudly and smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Nope. I'm Head Boy. Upset?"

_Upset_? she thought, running her small hands through her hair, frizzy from the humidity level. James' grin grew and he pulled her down the train by her wrist, somehow pulling her trunk along also. James didn't even look fazed by her reaction, and Lily knew she was in for something. She just hoped it wouldn't be the victim of Peter's excellent Jelly Legs hex.


	2. Not Quite a Bleach Blonde Bimbo

Lily struggled against James' unwavering grip on her wrist as he pulled them down the train. They passed many a student who were amused by James' antics. When they reached the Heads' compartment, James let go of her hand momentarily to open the door for her. Lily immediately snatched her hand back and fixed her bracelet. When James' hand seemed to search for her hand blindly, Lily smirked at his frown and entered the compartment with him.

The compartment was empty except for a few early Prefects. James smiled at Lily before plopping down on a seat near the door. Lily scowled at him and made her way to sit with Hufflepuff Prefect Alice Gwynn.

She was sitting quietly in the corner, twiddling her small fingers without acknowledging Lily.

"Hi, Alice," she greeted kindly. "How was your summer holiday?"

The girl smiled up at Lily, revealing a left dimple. "Great!" she exclaimed cheerfully. "Emmeline and I hung around Diagon Alley and shopped for the better part of August."

Lily listened to Alice babble about her holiday, ignoring constant glances from James across the compartment.

"How was _your_ hol?" Alice was asking. Lily, caught up in her wandering thoughts, shook her head when Alice waved in front of Lily's face. "Hogwarts to Lily, d'you read me?"

She laughed lightly. "My holiday was okay," she admitted. "I read a lot and watched telly and listened to music."

Alice's brow furrowed. "Telly? What—?"

"It's a Muggle device that projects amusing collections of skits prerecorded by actors (or sometimes live), and it is found compelling by most of the population, including myself." James finished and looked at Lily expectantly.

"I could've handled the explanation fine myself, Potter," she said angrily.

He raised an eyebrow. "Don't get all huffy at _me_. Just trying to help."

She rolled her eyes; she thought otherwise. She returned her attention to Alice. "Yeah," she continued, "I attended some concerts, too." She gestured to her tee. Alice seemed to brighten at her news.

"Oh! Did you see Exploding Snap at the Leaky Cauldron?" She made a grab for her purse. She pulled out a small ticket and said, "I did! Marly and I went."

Lily shook her head. "Nah. I saw some Muggle bands, though. I went the X-Factor tour, the Killers—"

James cut in again. "I saw you there." When receiving no reply from the redhead, he continued. "I practically sat right next to you. I was there with Remus." Alice moved to talk with Marcy Macdonald.

"Were you the one who had all the guyliner on and tight jeans like a Muggle? The obnoxious one who practically _screamed_ the lyrics to 'Spaceman' at random intervals?" James began to respond with something smart in reply when the Prefects streamed in.

Lily and James stood at the same time, and, Lily shushing the Prefects to no avail, stood in front of the now-overflowing compartment.

"Attention!" James thundered after many half-hearted attempts on Lily's part. "Thank-you," he said when they finally quieted. "We are just handing out patrolling schedules today. The day after tomorrow we will hold a meeting in the—" He paused, realizing they hadn't planned that far ahead. Or at all.

"—In Room 12, adjacent to McGonagall's office, at six thirty," Lily helped. She pulled out the premade schedules Dumbledore had sent them. She began calling names for students to see their allotted time slots for that month.

"Prewett, Fabian," she called after a few moments. A lanky auburn-haired boy walked up at nodded at Lily.

"Nice hair," he said to Remus who had materialized next to James.

Lily stole a look at him. He was currently discussing something with her counterpart. When she saw his hair, she gasped.

"Remus John Lupin!" She middle-named him and got the desired effect: The Marauder's head snapped to attention, glancing at the gaping Lily.

"Lily Anne Christine Evans!" he said right back causing James to snort with laughter.

"What happened to your _brown hair_?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "It's _blonde_! Bleach _blonde_!"

"We were experimenting," he confessed, shrugging.

"'We'?"

"The Marauders and I."

"_Blonde_, Remus?"

He chuckled. "Peter's is now blonde, too."

"Oh, Merlin," she said, imagining it. "A blonde Pettigrew? What color is _Black_'s hair? Red?"

"Nope," James laughed as Remus shrugged again. "It's still brown-black. But he has this blue strip that disappears from time to time."

Lily turned her attention back to the Prefects, then, touching her own hair absent-mindedly.

—

**Review? Ideas appreciated. Alice's last name, Gwynn, is pronounced Gwinn.**


	3. Pulling a Voldemort

After getting over the initial shock of Remus' uncharacteristic hair color change, Lily managed to get through the rest of the meeting by ignoring James' humming and pitiful Muggle knock-knock jokes. When the meeting adjourned, she left James staring off at the blur of red hair and black skirt.

She reached the familiar compartment out of breath. Opening the accordion door, she was met with an intent-looking Frank Longbottom.

"Hey, Frank!" she said enthusiastically. Her best friend looked up and saw his best friend smiling, and picked her up and spinned her around. When he set her down, slightly dizzy, she giggled and said, "Haven't seen you for a month!" They sat back down and Lily questioned him.

"What were you thinking about when I entered, Frank?"

"Serial killing."

She rolled her eyes. If it were anyone but Frank. . . "Why?"

"You know that Muggle telly you installed for me back in July?" he asked. She nodded. "Well, I usually watched _Seinfeld _late at nights."

"The show about nothing?"

"That one."

"I love that show! Did you see the one with the masseuse?"

"Merlin, yes," he laughed. "Well, I was watching it, and it brought up the fact that adoption leads to serial killing."

Lily put her head in her hands, pushing her glasses up her face and sighed. "_Frank_," she said carefully, "we've been friends for about four years now, correct?"

When she received a shrug, she continued. "Well, after _four years _now, you know I'm _adopted_, right?"

"Yeah." Confusion. _Boys_.

"Well, I'm adopted, and you don't see me pulling a Voldemort."

"So? I said it _can_ lead to serial killed. Can. _Can_. It doesn't have to."

"And when it doesn't?"

"I dunno! You get people like . . . you! You get people like you. Non-serial killing girls and boys who . . . don't serial kill."

She chuckled and laid down, stretching herself out, and setting her head in his lap. "Only you," she sighed.

"See Alice today?" He sounded hopeful and Lily hated the fact that she was going to have to let him down.

"Yeah, but she just confessed her love for Dolohov and Spanish love songs and told me to tell you to stop staring."

"You're serious?"

"Serious as Black."

"Lily! Then, tell me the truth!" He attempted to push her onto the carpeted floor, but she wouldn't budge.

"Okay, Godric, _okay_," she laughed. "She told me all about her holiday and this Exploding Snap concert she went to. She ended up talking with Marcy MacDonald and ignored me after I started talking Muggle."

"Muggle."

"Yeah. Potter cut in and she left."

"James?" She could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "What did _James_ say?"

She huffed, crossing her arms. "He confessed to the fact that he's a drag queen outside of Hogwarts. I'm surprised _he_, of all people, didn't bleach his hair."

"Someone's pissed," he noted. "Who bleached their hair?"

"Lupin! It looks horrid! He looks like an American hooligan from California. He's just missing the surfboard and sunglasses."

The train ride continued as Frank and Lily debated the differences between American and England. Somehow, Alice came back up, and Lily spent ages answering to interrogations.


	4. Of the Internet and our Alma Mata

James spent the whole meeting trying to impress the unimpressed Head Girl.

"I figured out how to work the Internet," he tried telling her at one point. She had turned a deaf ear in his direction. "Sirius and I had bought a computer since I had told him how much Muggles adore them. It took us two weeks plus, but we are now masters of _el Red_."

She had passed most of the meeting without saying mostly _anything_ uninsulting directly to him. He was pained to find that even though he had spent the majority of his hol watching Muggle movies and the like—and while it was interesting and fun and different to he and the Marauders, she couldn't make an effort to acknowledge his presence.

_I'd made an effort_, he thought angrily. _Why couldn't she?_

It didn't matter. He had disappointment rotting the bottom of his stomach like always, and he resolved to make proper conversation later.

—

Sorting was a pain in the arse, James believed. Not only was he starving, but, so far, they didn't have _any_ new Gryffindors.

"MacDonald, Anne!" The short blonde stumbled up the stairs and tripped onto the stool, the Hat falling over her eyes. After a considerable amount of time, the Hat yelled:

"GRYFFINDOR!" The table whooped and cheered for the clumsy girl, who sat next to her Fourth Year sister, Mary, and Marcy clapped the loudest from the Ravenclaw table, and only quieted when glared at by McGonagall.

They only received three other new Gryffindors that term ("Williams, Elizabeth", "Johns, Rupert", and "Lynne, Janet"). When Dumbledore finally stood, he made an unusual request.

"We're all going to sing the school song!" he announced. The Marauders cheered, along with the better part of the room. "So, pick any tune and let's sing!"

"_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_" the whole school sung,_  
Teach us something, please, / Whether we be old and bald  
Or young with scabby knees, / Our heads could do with filling  
With some interesting stuff, / For now they're bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff, / So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we've forgot, / Just do your best, we'll do the rest,  
And learn until our brains all rot!_"

James and Remus sung to "When the Saints Go Marching In", while Peter and Sirius attempted to screech it in the tune to "Do the Hippogriff" by the Weird Sisters. They got many claps, and bowed when finished.

"Time for food!" Dumbledore finally announced, and soon the school was full of full mouths.

—

"How's Lily?" Peter asked James ten minutes later. "You neglected to tell us on the train."

James cringed. "She's . . . good."

"She ignored you?" Sirius guessed. "Tough luck. Did she at least mention the concert?"

James rolled his eyes at Sirius. He had pulled his hair back with a gum band as not to get gravy in it. "I'm guessing she doesn't like tight jeans," he said finally. "Nor does she like the song 'Spaceman'."

"It's the best on _Day & Age_!" Peter exclaimed. "Why wouldn't she like it?"

"It's about suicide, and most don't enjoy songs about suicide," Remus answered, wiping his mouths.

They laughed, and, down the table, Lily was steaming at the ears.


	5. Plan A: Covering your True Feelings

"Alright, Lily?" Frank asked, concerned. "You've been stabbing at your turkey and, as far as I can see, there's absolutely nothing wrong with it. Mine's delicious."

Lily continued to shoot daggers mentally into the back of Dearborn's head. "Nothing," she grumbled. "Er," she said when she saw Frank's disbelieving gaze, "just trying to figure out what to gift Remus for his upcoming birthday?"

"Nice save." He furrowed his eyebrows after a moments. "Wait, when's his birthday?"

"The twenty-third of September," Lily answered, grimacing at the Ravenclaw table again.

"Have any ideas? I'll probably get him an, er, novel?"

"A flea collar," she joked. Then, she said hurriedly, regaining herself, "Nah. Not a flea collar." She attempted to laugh, but it came out fake. "Don't mind me."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Does Remus enjoy those Muggle books you read?"

"Yeah, I lend him mine. Why?"

"If I paid you, can you send away for one, and could you give it to me so I can give it to him?"

"Did you _see_ that?" she moaned. "He's just _flirting_! Is that all that boys do? Flirt?"

Frank turned around to see Caradoc Dearborn talking to an uptight Ravenclaw Fifth Year. "Oh," he said, slapping himself mentally. "Dearborn bothering you?"

"No! But, he's a _Prefect_. He should be setting a better example! And _you_!" She turned on him, pointing her fork at his chest menacingly. Her turkey fell onto the table cloth; she ignored it. "I thought you liked _Gwynn_! What were you doing, flirting with _Vance_, on the carriage earlier today?"

"Attempting to get a girlfriend."

"_Why_? Why _Vance_? You like _Alice Gwynn_!"

"It's called getting her jealous," he explained. Lily's face softened slowly, then she smiled.

"Good job, Agent Longbottom. Plan A: Jealousy."

"Plan _B_: Jealousy," he corrected.

"What was Plan A?" she laughed, Dearborn sliding out of her mind. "Playing hard to get?"

"Exactly! Just like you and James."

"I'm _not_ playing _hard to get_ with _Potter_!"

"Well, you are with Dearborn at least."

She flushed. "That's different." Her words came out in a mumble. She stuffed mashed potatoes in her mouth, then, ending the conversation.

Frank smirked. "Whatever you say."


	6. Warnings and New York Times Bestsellers

"Attention!"

James' head shot up, dropping his spoon mid-flick. Sirius looked relieved. They focused their wavering attention on the Headmaster.

"I know you may be drowsy and ready to hit your bed," Professor Dumbledore began, "but I'd like for you to listen for a minute or so.

"We have been cracking down this year. First off, I'd like to remind you that the Forbidden Forest is—well, _forbidden_. Some older students may want to take note of this fact." He looked pointedly at the Marauders and they laughed. "In other news, our new caretaker, Filch, has asked that all spellwork in hallways and disruptive products from Zonko's are hereby forbidden." He glanced around the room, looking at each table before continuing.

"I'd like to, on a more serious note, warn you about the dangers of the rising Dark Lord, Voldemort." Half of the inhabitants cringed at the name, but the Headmaster ignored it. "I would like to ask that all be extra careful at Hogsmeade in the following months, and try not to be careless. Danger _is_ rising. There _will_ be trouble. And anyone is up, I'm sorry to say.

"On a happier note," he said at last to the fearful Hall, "your warm beds are awaiting you, and term starts Monday. Pip pip!"

The students all stood at once, and James had to push past everyone to reach Lily, who was fighting with a lanky boy at the main doors.

"_Frasier_ is _not_ better than _Cheers_!" she seemed to be saying angrily. Her hands flew dramatically about, and James thought fleetingly that she really _was_ beautiful when she was crimson. "_Cheers_ had eleven great seasons. _Frasier_, on the other hand—"

"Lily," he cut in, "we need to locate our Common Room."

She glared at him. She gave Frank a quick hug and said, "Fine," tersely.

She started walking abruptly, and he hurried to catch up. "Wait!" he called. "Where are you going?"

"The _Common Room_," she said, snorting. He nodded.

"Just slow down," he said to no avail. When she didn't respond, he asked, "How was your hol?"

"Fine. Yours?"

"No, it had to be better than 'fine'. What'd you do?"

She glanced at him curtly. "Who cares what I did?"

"Me," he laughed, practically running to stay at her quick pace. His long legs helped, but years of flying, not running, slowed him down.

"You're a stalker, though, and I don't release personal information to them. I listen to my mother."

He looked dejected because of the comment for a second before regaining his dignity, and shaking the look off of his face.

"Look, I know you were voted Head Boy last year by the majority of the student body, obviously, as you're now Head," she was saying, "and the professors must of backed up the decision. But that does _not_ mean we're going to end up as friends."

"Friendly and friends are different," he said. "We could be civil."

She nodded shortly, shrugging, as they reached a tapestry with a picture of Lady Elaine on her death bed on it.

"Charming," he said as Lily pulled aside the painting. A small painting of the school was mounted on the wall.

"D'you have a key?" he asked her, and she produced an old-fashioned key from around her neck. He took it and opened the painting. It revealed a keyhole, and, inserting the key, the stone wall began to move aside.

After a moment (or two), the wall was open enough for them to walk through. Lily closed the tapestry and they climbed down the steps blindly.

The Common Room was small, perfect for two. It contained a couch, two armchairs, a wall of empty bookshelves, and a fireplace.

"Boring," he said as Lily disappeared into her room.

She returned five minutes later, slightly disheveled, and carrying a stack of colorful, hardback books. She started to set them on the shelves, and, making at least three trips back to her room, filled up nearly two shelves. He watched her as she alphabetized all of her books. When she finished, she stepped back and said, breaking the silence,

"I'm going to send for more."

"_What_?" James gaped openly. "_More_? Aren't these enough?"

She scoffed, folding her arms over her chest. "I'll owl my mum. There may be a way for her to send several. And I can always restock at Christmas holiday."

"What kind of books d'you fancy?" he asked eagerly.

"Romances are top. I like mystery, autobiographies, sci-fi." She paused. "Why? What d'you read?"

She eyed him suspiciously. "I don't suppose you read Nicholas Sparks or C.S. Lewis or James Patterson."

He hiccoughed. "I like, er, _Peter Pan_?"

"_Peter Pan_ is good, but it's … _Peter Pan_."

"I like movies," James offered to the wavering Head Girl. "I saw _Love Actually_ recently," he said in hopes to impress her. It _was_ true. Remus and he had watched it and poked fun at the movie. "It was okay. I love _Star Wars_."

She laughed loudly, and James couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic when she said, "Oh, I bet you do. Anyway, you saw _Love Actually_?" He nodded. "With Hugh Grant?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. Which was he?"

"Main character."

"Er. The Prime Minister?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, then, with him."

She looked surprised. "And you saw this movie, why …?"

"Sirius was off with Peter buying trousers, so Remus and I searched through that bloody telly for ages and came across it."

"_You_ have a _telly_?"

He beamed. Her frown deepened. "Got that right."

"And you watch it?" she demanded. "Know how to work it? Enjoy it?"

"We don't fancy much of the newer shows, but we watch _Ellen_"—he got a snort of laughter at that—"_Hell's Kitchen_, _Cheers, Seinfeld, _and celebrity gossip channels. Americans these days are hilarious and stupid."

She rolled her eyes at him and started rearranging her shelves again. He stood and stretched and looked at her collection more clearly.

"'_Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging_'," he read from a cover of a bright yellow book. "What are you _reading_, Lily?"

She snatched the book away angrily and put it with its sequels. She was bright red. James chuckled.

He looked again. _A Walk to Remember, _the _Narnia_ chronicles, _Tuesdays with Morrie,_ a Phillip Pullman trilogy.

"I'm going to bed," Lily announced when he got bored reading her titles aloud. "Won't be seeing you, hopefully."

James watched as the girl strutted out of the room, and his face fell.

_Today was to be top_, his mind said. _She was going to see you as Head Boy. Gasp. Snog you senseless. Guess what happened?_

He groaned and attempted to push the thoughts out of his mind half-heartedly, but he know they were right.

_Your day was pants. Lily ignored you. Lily poked fun at you. You are _hopeless_._

He opened the door to his room, and, not bothering to even look around or unpack his stuff, laid down and fell asleep to Lily's off-key singing from the next room over.


	7. Another Day, Another Girl

She managed to side-step James all weekend, fortunately. She spent the majority of it exploring the castle with Frank as per a tradition they started four years before.

She left the Heads Common Room early each day, and as James was a night owl, went to bed early. She knew she'd have to deal with the boy sometime, and woke Monday with avoiding him pushed out of her mind. There had been an unspoken agreement: Lily got the shower first.

She rushed out of her room that morning to meet Frank early to put their plan into action: Making Alice L. Gwynn jealous.

She was there first, and leaned against the large doors, invisible. The Marauders save James passed by ten minutes later. She heard snippets of their conversation:

" … James claims she won't even look twice at him …"

" … Ignored him all weekend …"

" … Says he hasn't been cocky. Who knows …"

She felt like she'd been slapped in the face. The usually cheery group looked and seemed ticked as they entered the Hall.

Sure, she didn't look twice at him. She ignored him all weekend. But, surely, he was still cocky, smug, and arrogant. He had to be.

He always was.

Anyway, why did he care if she ignored him?

Frank walked up to her, then, and she shook her thoughts away. James could get over himself; Lily was just the Head Girl. He could go chase another one, another day.

—

—

James entered the Great Hall late that morning. He was woken by the slamming of Lily's bedroom door.

He showered quickly in cold water, dressed in a daze, and put his tie on crooked. He nearly forgot his trainers.

And trousers.

And school books.

Needless to say, he ran down the corridor, and ran into a couple, before flinging open the now-closed doors.

He ignored peers' gazes as he seated himself with his best friends. He grabbed a piece of toast and focused in on the Marauders' current conversation.

"What d'you think the new Defense teacher is like?" Remus was saying. He nodded at James fleetingly before continuing. "He looks like he woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Already arguing with Flitwick."

James chuckled and looked upon the Head table. The only possible new addition to the staff was a plain man with a red face that looked as if Flitwick was heckling about something and he wasn't about to agree.

"McGonagall's coming with schedules," Peter informed them, then. "I think her face got tighter over the holiday."

The group laughed when a stern voice said,

"Potter."

James turned around, scrambled egg in mouth, chewing. "Ymph?" he managed.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "As the Head Boy, I expect you to set a better example. Merlin, you're seventeen. There will be no talking with your mouth full." His friends snickered in the background. "In other news, here is your schedule," she said, handing him his times tables, "and I would appreciate it if you would contact me on when you would like to hold Quidditch tryouts."

She smiled slightly and moved onto the Fourth Years after handing Remus, Peter, and Sirius their own schedules.

"'Merlin, you're seventeen!'" Sirius mimicked, pulling his long hair back in a mock-high bun.

James hit him over the head. "My mouth was full!"

"Well, Agrippa, don't say anything next time. WWLD?"

Remus chuckled and James looked confused. "What?"

"WWLD?"

"Speak English, would you."

"What would Lily do?" Peter clarified. "As in, 'What would Jesus do?'"

"I think I missed that joke," James said. "Any road, speaking of Evans, have you seen her?"

"Yeah, she's with Frank at the Ravenclaw table."

"Oh, mmkay." He bit down on an apple, and spent the rest of the morning watching Lily as she looked uncomfortable at her irregular table.


	8. Of Binns' Love Life and Muggle Blogging

**9:39**

**History of Magic**

Why I took this bloody class, I couldn't tell you. Professor Binns is torturous and can barely teach and hold attention of a class—wait, not _barely._ He can't. At all (ask anyone. Especially Black, sitting adjacent to me). Rumor is, he got up from by the fire one day, and left his body behind. He probably never even noticed that he's not alive anymore, I bet. It's probably because of the nonexistent love life. He's … what? Three hundred years old? And most likely a virgin. Maybe he can get together with Moaning Myrtle. Brilliant. I shall run the idea past Frank.

What's worse, Potter (AKA My Personal Stalker, MPS for short) has been seated right behind me. And though we can move, you won't see him. Moving, that is. Thank Merlin he's stopped his pulling at my bun/ponytail/hair in general. Now, though, I constantly feel his eyes boring into the back of my head. MPS talks to his friends all while looking at me. I mean, _really_. I feel like he's going to bloody steal my parchment out from under my Sugar Quill.

(Or just my Sugar Quill, and suck on it after I just did just to get my taste or something queer like that. He is MPS. And the bloody Head Boy. Why the whole bloody year voted for him last year—and why the school board approved the decision—beats me.)

Oh, bloody hell, Professor Binns is giving me the eye. Till next time,

_Lily Evans_, Head Girl. Tired, unorganized, and overachieving.

—

—

Half the class stared at the professor, gaping, as if asking, _What? Do we really?_

James sighed and rolled his eyes at his peers. The professor had just told them that for their start of term project, they'd be keeping a Muggle blog. They were to update it at least biweekly, and to pick a subject to discuss.

"But, professor!" Amos Diggory complained. "When would we have time to-do that? This is the only room in the school with computers, as well!"

"Come down anytime to-do it," the professor said. "Room's always open from seven until seven."

James didn't see the time complication. "Professor," he interrupted, "how will we know what to write about?"

The professor seemed agitated. "This isn't so tough, class. Do any of you keep a diary?"

She looked around the room at the six students who lasted in Muggle Studies till Seventh Year: a pompous Hufflepuff prat named Amos Diggory, a fellow Gryffindor, Hestia Jones, Caradoc Dearborn, Marlene McKinnon, and Lily.

Lily and Hestia raised their hands and the professor nodded appreciatively.

"Then, you two will understand better. Keeping a blog can be like keeping a diary. You record daily to weekly events, a record of your day and the like. Except, with a blog, it's on the Muggle Internet—which is only available powered by magic here in this classroom, as Mr. Diggory pointed out. They can also be more specific than just plain old daily events." She paused and called on the waiting hand of Diggory.

"What d'you mean, 'specific'?" he questioned, scribbling furiously on his parchment.

The professor contemplated the question. "Did any of you happen to see the Muggle blockbuster, _Julie and Julia_?"

The majority of the class looked baffled at the teacher save Lily who had raised her hand high.

"What was special about Julie's blog, Miss Evans?"

"It was all about cooking."

"Correct. So, if any of you like Quidditch and all that jazz, you may do a sports blog."

Marlene and Hestia started whispering and a million ideas flew through James' mind. He glanced over at Lily; she was sitting uncomfortably next to Marlene, chewing on her bottom lip attractively. She seemed thoughtful.

"Will Muggles have access to our blog?" Lily asked the professor. She looked pleased by the class' now-positive reaction.

"Yes, Miss Evans. Why?"

"Well," she began, "they don't know a thing about Quidditch and will suspect."

The professor looked flabbergasted for a moment before stuttering. "W-why … then, you can't talk about magic. Of course. No magic or Quidditch or anything. Just say you attend a far-off boarding school in Scotland …"

James zoned out of the discussion as he weighed ideas in his head.

At the end of class, his final idea was the only he considered doing at all: Operation Get the Girl. Well, the name needed work, but it'd have to-do for the time being. He would write weekly on his misadventures with his fellow Gryffindor and Head, Lily. He just hoped to Merlin and Agrippa and Circe and whoever else mattered, that she never read it.

(Nothing ever turns out as he hopes, though, and he knows it. If it did, he'd have been dating Lily by now.)


	9. Love Triangles and Normal Thoughts

**10:46**

**Muggle Studies**

Our loony professor, a fellow Muggleborn, wants out class—all _six_ of us—to keep a Muggle blog for a term. Does she not understand that I can barely stop writing in my notebook? I cannot get addicted to a bloody blog. Anyway, what would I write about? I'd probably just ramble on about myself and who I rate and what I'm wearing. Can you say, 'boring'?

Hestia and Marlene (the Whispering Twins) act like Fourth Years. The Whispering Twins sit in class and discuss (AKA whisper in "hushed tones") the benefits of thongs v. knickers. Merlin, I know, as a seventeen-year-old hormonal girl, I should probably be thinking like that. But as I am without boyfriend, it doesn't matter.

Now, they're discussing the recent Bones development. Edgar Bones (who we all know is crazy for Lisa) has recently started dating Amelia, Lisa's sister. And Amelia is absolutely crazy for Edgar, and won't know he's just using her. Poor girl. But she really needs to get her head out of the clouds and return to studying like a normal Ravenclaw.

For all the girl did last term was try to discuss her "brilliant, perfect, brilliant, handsome, brilliant" boyfriend with me to the point of my mental heath reaching its breaking point. I really needn't have yelled at her, but she was being bloody annoying and bubbly and happy while I had just been dumped by Benjy. I had been ready to snap.

Too bad it hadn't been MPS, Potter. But he'd probably have just taken it in stride. That's one of his worst personality traits. (Does he have any good ones other than the "naturally brilliant gene"? Something I want, by the way. How he and Sirius manage to be top of the class while I'm just clever and studious … Never mind.)

Bugger, the bell's ringing. Yours truly,

_Lily Evans_, Head Girl. Temperamental, Clever, Smug.


	10. Song Withdrawal

James flung himself onto his old, now-abandoned bed in certain disarray. He heard the door open behind him, and snuggled into his blankets, covering himself.

"If this is about the HG, I'm not bloody helping."

James lifted his head wearily and looked up to see Sirius throwing his knapsack on his already horrid-looking four poster bed.

"'HG'? Can we stop talking in acronyms?" James pleaded, stuffing his head under his pillow again in an attempt to block Sirius out.

"Head Girl," he clarified. "And, no, I quite enjoy my 'acronyms', Mr. Dictionary. It adds a bit of wit to our conversations, don't you think?"

"Not really," Peter answered, entering the room with Remus lagging behind. "It just feeds to the rumors that you're slowly becoming mentally unstable. It's probably all the sex. You're on snog withdrawal."

Sirius chucked a book of Remus' at Peter. He dodged it easily, but it hit the werewolf in the middle of his face.

"Sometimes I wish you weren't a Chaser and so well-aimed," Remus said in response, picking up his book, _Little Men,_ as Peter and James roared with laughter.

When they calmed, attention returned to James.

"What did the HG do now, anyway?"

"_Lily_ is just bloody fine. Fine. She won't _talk_ _to me_."

"Tragic," Sirius yawned. "Did you try, you know, talking with her? That usually does the trick in situations like these. It's not like you had a fight, she throws a hair dryer at you, at now she's giving you the cold shoulder. That would be different."

"Did that happen to you, Sirius?" Peter said, mock-caringly.

"N-no!" Sirius stuttered. "Remember, that chick flick we watched over the hol because James said it was HG's favorite movie—Parent Jail, or something."

"It's from _the Parent Trap_," James said, exasperated. "Any road, it's not like I can just waltz up to Lily and start a conversation. She's probably just waiting for me to give her a reason to slap me."

"Just be nice," Remus advised. Peter snorted. "Study obviously in front of her. Neither make a fool of yourself nor run around singing ABBA, because I know for a fact she hates that band. I would also tell you that taking notes is advised. As well as not trying to touch her, kiss her, hug her, flirt with her. Be distant. She'll come to you."

James smiled and thanked his friend as Sirius looked affronted. "Write a book, will you."

They continued their banter up until curfew (when James had to run down six flights of stairs in a hurry to talk to Lily before she went to bed at what she called "lights off.") He reached their portrait three minutes later to a closed door on Lily's part. He frowned before brightening and thinking that he'd just talk to her during patrols the following day.


End file.
